The Siren's Lament
by S.K. Fletcher
Summary: "Pretty little girls have always attracted monstrous things in this world" She could have soared to unimaginable heights with her voice, but Christine Daae chose to live in the darkness of her father's death. Sad and alone, a dark being has taken advantage of her lifeless soul, hoping, just hoping she could be his redemption. A dark and modern tale.
1. Lifeless

The air was warm and borderline stifling with the heater blasting hot air through the vents, and the cramped, windowless study room at New York's state school, Albany University, was becoming too hot as Christine Daae tried to study for her looming finals. A pesky fly had manage to find its way into the room annoyingly buzzing around the ceiling and finally landing on the lid to her now cold coffee. She batted the pest away, and grimaced at the cheap contents in the mug. The coffee shop had closed hours ago at the student lounge, so she was left with getting a cup from one of those awful machine dispensers that mostly cough out water. But, it was better than nothing since studying advanced music theory in of itself was awful enough without something to keep her awake.

She glanced back down at the chapter explaining retrograde inversions, and her eyes once again began to glass over with exhaustion. Christine took out her cell phone out of her pocket to check the time and found that it was only 10:30pm. She took a minute to determine if it was better to go home and start this again early in the morning or tough it out now. She was getting so damn tired of all of it. So much to do and so little time. She had to keep her grades up or else risk losing the small amount of scholarships she had, but she also had her job to worry about…

Christine put her head in her hands, blonde curls creating a curtain around her face while breathing in through her nose and out through her mouth to calm the oncoming anxiety.

_I'm trying Papa, I'm trying _kept replaying over and over in her head like a mantra.

Her father's death still tormented even after five years, and she seemed to live in the shadow it cast. She let out a shaky breath, and felt the tears well up in her eyes once again.

She seemed to always be crying

All she wanted was to hear him play the violin and hear his voice tell her those silly fairy tales of Little Lotte once again. Oh, how she took his presence on earth for granted. Memories of their old beach house down south surfaced filled with happiness and music. Beautiful music she'll never hear again.

Christine pulled out a black leather folder filled with an old music score while taking care not to bend the old yellowing papers. It was a sweet Swedish folk song she used to sing with her father when she was young and carefree. The score belonged to her mother before, whom Christine barely remembered since she died when Christine was very young, and her father had given it to her as a gift one day. The papers were tearing in the corners and they had a yellowish hue to them, but the memories are what made it special to her. A barefoot little girl dancing around her father strumming out the song's melody while her sweet soprano voice charmed all those who passed by.

She felt this piece would give her courage when singing in an upcoming audition for the spring musical the Performing Arts Department held annually. It was a requirement for all senior level vocal majors to try out, and even if she got a small part in the chorus, she would surely make her father proud.

As the tears began to pass, she looked back down at the same paragraph she had been trying to read for the last ten minutes, when the stifling room won the battle and began to make her drowsy. As she was drifting off, she heard it in her moment of delirium. A violin, a violin playing her song engulfed her mind with warmth and, for a second she felt…happy. She was reliving her time with her father on the beach, and she could even feel the ocean air kissing her face with the salty smell. She was thriving in the sunlight once more, oblivious to the darkness always watching and waiting for her.

Christine awoke with a jolt when she heard the loud click of the lights shutting off echoing through the small room. She scrambled to find her cell phone in the dark to check the time, and to have some source of light in the pitch blackness.

It was passed midnight, the library had closed, and she didn't get any studying done.

_'__Damn it, damn it, damn it!'_

Christine exhaled loudly from the sheer frustration of her stupidity, and stumbled around trying to gather her things, hoping she didn't get locked in. Not even a book lover, such as herself, wanted to be locked in a library all night. She slipped on her heavy winter jacket, and zipped up her fully stuffed back pack before opening the study room door to the dark, empty library.

She quietly slipped out, and headed down the stairs making sure not to trip over her own feet, then made a beeline for the front doors. She gave a hard push and the door easily swung out letting a cold rush of air nip at her warm face. Christine stuffed her already cold hands in her pocket letting the door swing shut behind her, and began rushing to the promising warmth of her car. But, before Christine even took five steps, she had a moment of panic, and reached around to grab her heavy bag off her shoulder, and furiously unzipped it to look through its contents.

It's not here. Her music. How could she forget something so precious?

Christine whipped back around blonde hair hitting her face from the velocity, and without thinking rushed to the door only to find it locked.

_'__Of course it's locked, you idiot.' _she told herself.

She rested her head against the cool glass, tears of anger, and frustration once again breeching over her eyes. She just wanted to sleep, sleep and never wake up.

"It'll be there tomorrow." She whispered in reassurance.

Before, she could lose all her strength she pushed herself off of the door, and made her journey to the old beat up Honda she got as a graduation present. She wiped the tears and her runny nose on her hand as she got in her car, and put the key in the ignition. The drive was going to be short especially since there would be minimum traffic, but Christine still felt her head bob as she stared at the yellow lines on the highway, and she had to roll the window down to keep herself awake. Exhausted, she parked her car in her usual spot, headed toward the glass doors leading into the shabby lobby, and gave the night attendant a nod before going in the elevator.

Christine shared her apartment with a talented dance major and friend, Meg Giry, who rarely spent the night anywhere, but her current boyfriend's place, so Christine had the place mostly to herself in the evenings. When she got to the top floor, Christine exited the elevator and made her way down the hall to her door. Once she got inside, she dropped her bags and collapsed on the couch, coat and shoes still on.

"I just need to close my eyes for a minute." She barely muttered as she was already lolling off to sleep. The couch feeling like heaven on her back compared to the hard chair she slept on earlier at the library. Her breathing became more even, and she knew she should get up lest she end up on the couch all night, but then, ah, that music visited her again. Perhaps Christine's subconscious had been manifesting her father's playing in her sleep as a defense mechanism from all the stress. But, she hadn't remember her father playing with such beauty, such passion.

This music, this dream music had filled out her hollowed soul with a wave a euphoria she hadn't felt in a long time- she thought she would never feel that way again.

Then, oh, and then there was a voice.

A voice that began a song from the purest place in the heavens that inspired rapture growing inside her mind and body replenishing all the life that was smothered with darkness.

Then, it stopped.

_"__You must wake up, Christine." _It whispered in her ear. "No, don't leave me." She pleaded with the angelic voice. Why did they always have to leave? Any piece of joy she found in this forsaken world had been stolen from her as if she didn't deserve happiness. She tried so hard to create something positive in her life, but then became dejected when life's callousness extinguished any hope for harmony in her environment. What was the point of dangling the golden rays of joy in front of her empty soul only to take it away once she got close enough? Just to torment her, that's why. What a cruel joke.

_"__I'll never be far my, dear._" The voice reassured her. Christine swore she could feel someone lovingly stroke her cheek as she was slipping back in to consciousness. _"I'll always be watching over you." _

_"__Wake up, Christine."_ The voice was fading away this time, and she began to become aware of her bleak surroundings- back into reality.

When Christine finally opened her eyes, she only saw an empty bedroom. There wasn't any heavenly being watching over her, and she was alone, as always. She noticed her cheeks felt sticky from tears, and she tried to vehemently rub away the evidence of ever shedding them. With a sigh, Christine pushed her blankets to side, and began to get up from her bed when she noticed her boots were neatly placed right by her night stand, and her heavy winter jacket was hanging on the back of her desk chair. She looked down and also noticed that she was still in the same clothes she wore yesterday, and the last thing she remembered was falling asleep on the couch. How did she get in her bed?

'Am I sleep walking now?' she thought to herself. 'I don't remember even walking to my room, and taking off my shoes.' The more she thought about it, the more convinced she that she was going crazy from the stress, and as she got up, and walked to her desk, she noticed a black leather folder innocently sitting in plain sight. Christine knew that folder by every crease every worn out corner, and she, also, knew she left it back at the library.

"It can't be." She muttered to herself, and cautiously approached the leather folder as if it was going to bite her. Upon opening it, her suspicions were confirmed when she saw the familiar yellow papers staring back at her wide eyed, disbelieving face. Things just didn't materialize out of thin air, and she had checked her bags thoroughly last night. This was it, this was the moment she was utterly convinced she was losing her mind. As she started thinking about seeing a doctor, she noticed a small white piece of paper tucked in between the music. The paper was brand new with delicate textures caressing her fingers as she pulled it out from the old yellowed music scores. When she realized what it was she was holding, Christine gasped in shock, both hands reaching her mouth causing the paper to gracefully flutter to the floor.

It was a note, a note scrawled in dark red ink with child-like handwriting that said, **' You Should Be More Careful.' ** No signature was found anywhere.

Someone had been in her apartment.


	2. Haunted

_A/N. First, I extended the last chapter a few days after I uploaded it, so check back to make sure you're caught up. I won't be doing these very often, but I want to thank everyone for the reviews, favorites, and follows! Most importantly, I am in need of a Beta, so if anyone is willing or knows anyone willing to take on this story, let me know. Thanks and enjoy!_

_Everything tires with time, and starts to seek some opposition, to save it from itself." _

_― Clive Barker__  
_

Chapter Two

Christine didn't even bother contacting the police after finding the mysteriously placed music. What would she even say? "Yes, Officer, someone broke into my apartment, only to_ return_ something. Yes, I said return. Oh, then I started hearing voices last night." Ha, that would bode well. They would either think she was daft or on some hallucinogenic drug, and they would lock _her _up.

No, she didn't have time to deal with what could have just been a very elaborate prank from her roommate. Besides, she hadn't received anymore cryptic notes since that night, which was almost five days ago. It's just a joke, a silly little joke, right…

Unfortunately, that didn't stop her from being on edge the next few days, nor keep her from jumping at every little creak her small apartment made. She had avoided staying out for too long, either. No more late night library sessions or quick stops at the grocery store. Just a straight trip from the university to her apartment complex. There were too many places for someone to hide in the outside world, and Christine felt a small amount of relief being around familiar surroundings. She was just taking precautions, that's all. She had kept telling herself it was nothing as she tried to fall asleep at night, repeating the saying as if it ward off all evils. But, call her crazy, she could have sworn the shadows were crawling and following her everywhere she went. Every time she closed her eyes she felt them touching and trusting her to their terrifying secrets. Damn it all! If she wasn't already insane, the paranoia and lack of sleep would surely do her in. What could the shadows do anyway? Prevent sunburn? Hah, how terrifying!

One evening, when Christine got a chance to take a small nap without fear, Meg had come home by banging the door open causing Christine to shriek in terror and tumble off the couch. The girl hadn't been home for days, most likely spending the night at her boyfriend of the month's apartment, and poor Christine was not expecting the noisy woman to be back already.

"Jesus, what's the matter with you?" her dark haired roommate inquired with a little bit of guilt in her eyes. Clearly, she could see her little spastic blonde roommate had been on edge for quite some time judging from the wild look in her eyes. Perhaps she should tone down the dramatic entrances for a while.

"N-nothing, I'm just tired." Christine replied quickly getting off the floor and attempted to reclaim her dignity. At least she only sputtered out a half lie, and, judging by the look on Meg's face, she didn't believe a word of it, either. Thankfully, Meg realized Christine did not want to talk about it, and didn't mention her transparent little lie. Well, Christine _was_ actually exhausted, but Meg didn't need to know about her paranoia and the mini anxiety attacks she had every time something miniscule like a leaf flew by. That part was irrelevant and of no concern to her petite friend. Christine had been furiously studying while dealing with oddities in her life, and it exhausted her to no end.

Her exams started on Monday, and she had her audition the week after that with practices running throughout the course of winter break if she even made it in the ensemble. There were very talented musicians, and actors at the university dying to get a role in the spring show, and only the most promising were selected for a part. Those who didn't became part of the cast became part of the tech crew, a death sentence for an aspiring musician.

The spring performance was a tradition for wealthy patrons and alumni to attend as a way to kill time and brandish their wealth. It's mainly the reason why the University bought a large theater a few miles from campus, and updated the interior to accommodate the first class' taste in fine materials. After all, the fine arts department had to get their budget from somewhere to pay many high salaries. There was also an old rumor of alumni guests recruiting graduating students for Broadway and national touring companies, but these were only rumors. Still, one going into the cruel art of show business has to take some of these rumors seriously for a possibility of acquiring fame. It was stressful for everyone, but the rewards were for too great to give up and go the easy route.

She had worked too hard to give everything up and her dearly departed father would be so, so disappointed in her. Christine would never forgive herself if she just quit.

On Wednesday, the sun was long past set as Christine was furiously bent over a thick book mumbling words and phrases to memorize. Her coffee had long ago gone cold, and the ambience of her small grey room was becoming an eye sore. But, she had made the decision to stay inside her bedroom with only one door and one window to wearily keep an eye on. No one could get in without her knowing or so she hoped.

After giving up on understanding the details of the chapter she was reading, Christine pulled out her audition piece from the drawer in her desk. She needed to look at something other than numbers and music was always a welcoming reprieve. She began humming the melody she knew by heart while studying the old, feminine pencil markings in the margins. It was a simple and safe song that would hopefully bring out the clarity in her soprano voice while auditioning. Simple and safe, just how she lived her life. Out of the spotlight, an unheard of little mouse comfortably hiding away in her shell of solitude. Her father had taken too many risks in his lifetime, and look at him now- dead and buried without as much as a goodbye.

Christine shook her head and mentally scolded herself for thinking of her dearly beloved father so grimly. He always told her that if she lived with God and music in her heart, the angel of music would visit her and she would live the fullest life this mortal world had to offer. Death had other plans, however, and that's when she knew that it was all a lie. There wasn't a God, there never was.

A slight breath of cold wind snuck into the safety of her warm apartment and kissed her pale cheek leaving small goose bumps on her flesh.

The room was getting a bit cold, so she pulled on her oversized sweater, and contemplated turning the heat up again while oblivious to the source.

The window in her bedroom was the culprit, and was letting in a bit of a December draft that was gently blowing on her gossamer curtains and caressing Christine's shivering body like cold dead hands. She was pulling her sweater tighter around her small petite form in efforts to stay safe from the cold, then she suddenly felt a chill down her spine that was not from the bitter wind. It was a revolting and terrifying chill that indicated something was watching her, waiting for her to make the next move. She froze her movements not even taking a single breath before she slowly turned her head towards that cursed window.

It was cracked open!

Christine sprang out her chair knocking it to the floor while making a dash for the window slamming it with such a force the glass dangerously rattled.

She was getting tired of these little games! She furiously thought to herself while fighting the urge to lose her lunch. She peeked out from behind her curtains looking into the black abyss like a child peering out from the safety of blankets. There wasn't anyone as far as her human eye could see. Nothing! What was she expecting on the top floor, anyways? Only a cat could climb around the small ledges without falling to its death and it was still pushing its luck. Perhaps she had left the window open or maybe Meg did when trying to cook something. Meg venting out her charred cooking was more plausible than a ghost opening her window to give her a cold!

Christine began to step closer to the window, peeling the curtains further back for one last one look when her tow unexpectedly and painfully hit a solid object behind the curtains. With a cry of annoyance, she threw the curtains to the side to curse the blasted object and once again was filled with cold dread upon seeing a foreign object casually leaning against the wall.

_Impossible!_

Fear was lodged in her throat and she was holding back a scream of terror upon glancing the supple leather folder. She could have believed it when the thought of the object belonging to Meg came up if it wasn't for the beautifully scripted 'C' embossed on the front cover. So many thoughts were flowing through her head and she had no idea how long she stood there staring at the leather folder in pure horror before she bent down to pick it up. The folder was high quality leather that felt so soft to touch Christine wanted to rub it against her cheek, if only for a moment... What could it be! She thought to herself. Is it filled with photos? Letters? Threats? Christine had an internal battle of whether I was a good idea to open it or throw back out the window where she believed it came from.

But, when she did open it, she was surprised to find it wasn't either photos or threats.

_More Music!_ Music scrawled in the familiar red ink that was in her vocal range. She read a few pages playing the melody in her head and was deeply overwhelmed within moments. There was so much beauty on the thick papers, and she felt it lovingly weave its delicate fingers into her soul. The notes sung of the purest of love and longing that the lyrics could not. Oh, but the lyrics were such magnificent poetry that would bring Shakespeare to shame. Poor little Christine had wept that night while in the presence of the greatest work she had ever laid eyes on, but, curiously, there wasn't any composer's name written on the piece anywhere. Christine brushed the hot tears off her face careful to not get it on the pages and flipped to the last page eager to know how the song ended and if there was more information on the angelic writer. However, Christine broke out of her trance upon seeing the clumsy handwritten note addressed to her, and she was once again filled with apprehension.

**"This Piece Would Better Suit Your Voice For The Audition. " **

Well, Damn.

Christine's finals came and went, and on Thursday, after she finished her last final of the semester, she was ready to take the longest nap of her life. But, she knew, that was impossible with her audition in a few days, and she needed to make up hours at work since she took a few days off to study. Even when Christine did manage to get a few hours of sleep, she was in a restless, panicked state that often felt like she was even more drained then before when waking up/ The constant fear of being watched, and someone breaking in was going to drive her crazy if it didn't stop soon.

Well, you didn't want to be alone! You got what you wished for, you stupid girl! She thought to herself.

Christine would later regret not mentioning these terrifying ordeals to Meg, to an authority figure or just _someone_ instead of dealing with it on her own.

However, her behavior didn't go unnoticed by the few people that were close to her. Meg was beginning to worry, like the mother hen she always was, as she took notice of Christine's sickly palor and dark shadows under her eyes. The girl already had pale enough skin, and now she was looking like a corpse! On Thursday evening, Meg was sick of her ghost of a roommate's harmful behavior, and took charge. She barged into Christine's room, which startled the poor girl out of her wits, and asked- no she demanded that she go out with her tonight.

"It'll be fun, I promise." Meg offered to the skeptical and worn out looking girl. The aforementioned "fun" Meg was referring to was a high class dinner party her parents dragged her to every year that bored Meg to tears But, Christine didn't need to know that. The tiny young woman needed to eat a meal that didn't consist of coffee and bagels, and perhaps drink a bit of the fine wine the servers poured the moment your glass was empty. Just a bit of wine…well, perhaps quite a bit.

Christine still had a look of disdain on her face which frustrated Meg to no end. She was going out tonight whether she liked it or not!

"Oh, come on!" Meg Exclaimed. "My dad is a no show, as per usual, so we have an empty seat, and you just so happen to be free tonight."

"I have to work in the morning, Meg." Christine reminded her friend while still not entirely convinced Meg asked her to go without _some_ hidden agenda "Besides, I don't have anything elegant to wear that doesn't look like something I bought for a high school dance." It was a pitiful excuse, and Christine knew it, but she was too tired to come up with some witty and elaborate story.

"Ha! Nothing to wear you say?" Meg shouted as she moved back to her room and quickly came back with a pile a dresses and shoes. Ugh, Meg knew she would make the 'I have nothing to wear' excuse.

"I'll have you back early tonight! Just please come out, and enjoy yourself for once." She then unceremoniously dropped the pile of clothes at Christine's feet, and the blonde haired girl glanced at the layers of chiffon and silk of various colors. With a defeated sigh, Christine agreed to go which resulted in a squeal of delight from her roommate.

"Dinner is at seven, by the way!" Meg shouted as she hurriedly left the room to get ready. Christine looked at the clock, and noticed that it was already six and she panicked a bit. "You only gave me a less than thirty minutes to get ready!" She cried out to her smug friend who already had her makeup and hair done.

"I suppose you better hurry up and pick a dress, then!" Meg called from the bathroom probably putting on lipstick by the way her words were muffled. With a sigh of annoyance, Christine shifted through the pile of fabric attempting to look for something that would suit her. Meg had a habit of buying heavily beaded and sequined dresses that were borderline gaudy, but she managed to find a delicate crème colored dress with a sweetheart neckline. Long flowing chiffon draped over a silky under layer that flowed like water. Meg walked in on Christine holding up the gown and snorted at her choice.

"Of course you would pick that one. You know my mom bought that for me, right?"

"Oh, hush." Christine replied. "I'd rather not look like a walking disco ball." And she referred to the sparkling pile of dresses which resulted in Meg uttering out a disappointed sigh. The dress was safe, and nobody would notice her among the sea of faces. Especially, someone terrorizing her. Or, so she thought.

No, she would be out surrounded by people who could easily hear her scream if someone tried to grab her! The banquet would, also, be well lit with grand chandeliers that would chase away all the shadows that have been haunting her.

Yes, it would be very safe she thought in reassurance.


	3. Damaged

Chapter 3

_"__Even if she be not harmed, her heart may fail her in so much and so many horrors; and hereafter she may suffer-both in waking, from her nerves, and in sleep, from her dreams."  
― __Bram Stoker__, __Dracula_

The drive to the banquet hall would only take fifteen to twenty minutes once they left Meg's parent's house in her mother's large SUV. Meg's family wasn't particularly wealthy, but Mrs. Giry assisted many prestigious patrons in her career, and had developed a few friends over the decade. In return, her clients graciously presented her with gifts and invitations to lovely parties as a thank you. Well, actually, perhaps these gifts were more of a bribe in order to maintain secrecy on some of their unethical business practices, but nothing could be proven, of course. Christine wasn't exactly sure what Mrs. Giry's job actually was, and she wasn't planning on asking her either. She might end up with concrete shoes and at the bottom of a lake if she found out some of the woman's secrets.

The radio in the fairly new car was on some pop station Meg chose, and Christine stared out the window watching the scenery go by. It wasn't much to look at, for, winter temporarily destroyed much of nature's beauty and made everything look grey and dreary. However, Christine needed something to distract her mind from wandering to more unpleasant things, and if dead trees and muddy snow was all she had, then so be it. Eventually, the trees became more sparse as they drove closer to the heart of the city, replacing the dead shrubbery with urban lights and sounds. People were still bustling around the streets, arms full of shopping bags and various doughy treats from the bakeries and cafes. Despite the frigid weather, people looked happy bundled up in their fashionable coats and scarves pulling along their spouses and children. It shouldn't be a dispiriting sight to those passing by, but Christine couldn't help the feeling of jealousy and loneliness creep up on her.

Before she could sink lower into despair, they pulled into a U-shaped driveway behind a couple of beautiful and expensive sports cars that Christine was sure cost more than what she would make in a few years. Glamorous women in long elegant dresses were assisted out of their cars, and escorted into the cheerfully lit building seemingly without a care in the world. These women had money, and they were not afraid to flaunt it. It must be nice to have all that money, all that security she thought to herself. Why, their children would never have to worry about tuition, putting food on the table, and they could always rely on a trust fund once they were adults. They would never have to lift a finger or work for anything they wanted.

Through her window, she watched the animated light display on the building's walls with mild amusement as they pulled up to the valet. The young man could not have looked more disappointed when Meg's mother's SUV pulled up instead of one of the exotic cars, but the cheerful smile returned once he saw the dazzling and her low cut dress Meg through the window. Meg flirtatiously smiled back past her mother's no non-sense attitude which made the nervous boy wary of this stern woman. He shakily took down a name license plate number before handing Mrs. Giry a numbered ticket while two older gentlemen opened Meg and Christine's door and assisted them out of the car. Christine winced when she put her full weight on her feet and was thankful someone held on to her or else she would have stumbled. She knew she should have put on a pair of shoes that were already broken in, but, no, she didn't want to wear her dirty old heels at a high class party. Nevertheless, she most certainly regretted the choice in footwear regardless of how pretty they were since she would be donning some lovely blisters tonight.

A gust of winter's cold wind blew by, and Christine wrapped her sheer shawl around her shoulders hoping to fight off some of the bitter wind nipping at her bare arms. She didn't have an appropriate winter coat to match the formality of her dress, so Christine only brought a shawl to keep her shoulder marginally covered. She glanced around her surroundings rubbing her arms to create heat while slightly bouncing her knees. The outside was gloriously lit up with twinkling lights weaving up small tree trunks and spreading out through the branches. All the color lights created an illusion of a winter wonderland, but it was still breath taking to look at. Her father used to drive her around the block only to look at the lights people would put up on their houses. He would slow to a creep when they passed the exorbitantly lit homes as she pressed her face against he window in child like amazement. They always spent the holidays together, but since he died, she only visited her former guardian in the nursing home who was suffering from Alzheimer's , and couldn't remember who Christine was half of the time…The holidays were hard on Christine sometimes.

After adjusting her dress, Meg came over and hooked her arm into Christine's before walking under the awning with confidence Christine wish she had. Meg's mother followed behind them at a much slower pace due to her age, but caught up to them once they reached the double doors leading into the lobby. The door men hurriedly opened the doors for the three women, and a gust of warm air hit Christine's face as she stepped in to the ornate room. All bitterness melted away at the sight of such opulence and was replaced with a frit of nervousness for being in the presence of all the grandeur. Men and women impeccably dressed in the finest suits and gowns lingered the room greeting old friends with kisses on the cheeks and excitable chatter. She felt out of place among these people and wondered if they could tell she wasn't part of their circle just by looking at her. The room smelled sweetly of expensive perfume and the hint of holiday spices made the lobby feel warm and cozy. Above her, was a large crystal chandelier strung up on the tall cathedral ceilings that were painted with large murals illustrating the nighttime and daytime skies. The night sky was littered with stars that actually glowed and twinkled around a large stained glass crescent moon against a midnight blue background. The sun was glass as well painted gold causing little flecks of light to bounce around the ceiling illuminating the puffy white clouds. It was a sight to behold, certainly.

However, Christine's attentions strayed elsewhere when the sound of classical music reached a very triumphant crescendo through a set of closed wooden doors. Ah, Vivaldi's Four Seasons! The Spring movement to be exact. Her father used to play the piece for her and she would act out a story filled with fairies, evil queens, and dashing princes. Daddy Daae always filled her head with fairytales when she was young, and never told her that one day she would have to grow up and accept reality. Her father always had a protective barrier around her, always shielding little Christine from the cruel world contrived by humanity. There were always happy endings in her imaginative world; it was all her father ever taught her. Once Gustave Daae suddenly died, she was thrust into a world she knew nothing about, and ended up being all alone. The innocence she had lost was something she didn't like to dwell on too often, for, it only made her sad when she came out of her memory, but tonight the song greeted her like an old friend, and soothed her apprehension.

The three women followed the herd of impeccably dressed men in women through a set of large, wooden double doors that led to the deluxe banquet hall. She winced her eyes at the sudden change in lighting upon entering the room which, like Christine had hoped, was filled with crystal chandeliers, exorbitant centerpieces, and glowing candles in their colorful glass casings creating dancing lights on the linen table cloths. The light would surely protect her from the shadows, she thought. It was like when she was a little girl and fearing the monsters that only appeared once the lights were turned off, but were chased away the minute she flicked on her night light. The light was a protective barrier that would ward off all evils as she curled in bed to sleep, but that didn't mean the monsters couldn't taunt her from the depths of the dark. This room however, was so gloriously lit that it left no room for any shadows to prowl away in dark corners; it was…

"-So beautiful." Christine muttered without expecting anyone to hear her, but Meg turned around with a grin plastered on her face. Meg always loved to relish in the fact that she was right, and tonight was not an exception.

"I told you that it would be great to come out." She replied with a look of triumph. They arrived at a small table near the back by large bay windows accented by plush curtains that overlooked the twinkling lights outside. The table was marvelously set in fine china, shining silverware, crystal glasses, and silk napkins that looked to expensive for wiping food off of faces. There were three other people at their table she did not recognize, but they greeted the Giry's and their plus one very openly and politely.

"I hope you don't mind beef." Meg whispered to Christine upon sitting down. "That's what we put my dad down for." Christine shook her head while a polite waiter approached the table with a wine selection. With a thank you, she glanced at the well-designed drink menu noticing that drink prices were not listed.

"Are the drinks so expensive that they don't even bother putting the prices down?" She joked to Meg. "No, silly. It's called an open bar, and with how much each ticket cost, it would be borderline rude to not have an open bar." Meg let out a chuckle. "Even the wealthy get angry at overpriced alcohol." The two girls laughed together at the thought, and stifled their girlish giggles when the handsome young waiter returned to their side of the table. Christine wasn't too knowledgeable in fine wines, but per suggestion of the waiter, she ordered a White Zinfandel that was sweet enough for her, but will still compliment the beef.

Christine settled in her chair half listening to the conversations around the table. She felt relaxed for the first time in a month, and didn't actually feel guilty for taking time to herself. The setting was absolutely breathtaking, and she hadn't been surrounded by this much opulence since she attended some distant cousin's wedding with her father years ago. Her father put her in a puffy pink dress, and tamed her wild hair as much as a man could manage, then reached down to her eye level and told her to mind her manners. Her cousin wasn't a pleasant woman to be around, so Christine avoided contact with the spoilt bride as much as possible. However, her father attempted to remain friendly with that side of the family since he was fairly close with a fairly wealthy great aunt whom, liked Christine, disliked most of the wedding party.

Her father would always remind her, "Family is family, Chrissy. You have to keep them close to your heart because that kind of bond is very special." He was a very traditional man who always believed blood ties were very important to maintain. However, none of them showed up to her father's funeral except her great aunt who soon became her guardian. Some family.

The waiter had arrived with their drinks, and by the time their food arrived within the next half hour, her glass had been re-filled at least three times. It was never half empty for too long before it was filled once again, and the alcohol was beginning to dim her senses. Both she and Meg were chortling in a very unbecoming fashion while chatting, but, for the first time, Christine couldn't give a damn. She was having fun and felt silly for once, she deserved it, didn't she? She had been cooped up in her room for far too long, avoiding…well she didn't even know who she was avoiding, and it was draining what little happiness she had left. Christine had heard stories of traumatized people going mad, losing time, and waking up in some unknown place. She couldn't decide what was worse. Having a stalker or confirm her mental health was deteriorating? How could she tell the authorities about a stalker she has never seen. No one would bother starting an investigation over something equivalent to a secret admirer's tirade. But, what if she really was in trouble?

The thought was making Christine become too warm and the alcohol wasn't helping her dizzying head. The room felt like it had risen twenty degrees in temperature, and was causing her forehead to feverishly sweat. She needed to get some air.

**Now**.

She hurriedly excused herself from the table and made a beeline for the exit, weaving her way through the tables and tipsy guests while muttering apologies. The ornate double doors were just a few feet in front of her when she ungracefully bumped into a young gentleman crossing her path causing her to ankle to give out. She gasped and grabbed on to the nearest stable object which just so happened to have a set of hands that grabbed onto her waist. She looked up and recognized the gentleman she bumped into. Quickly she straightened herself up out of embarrassment, hardly able to look at him in the eye.

"I am so, so very sorry!" She blurted out with an extremely red face. "I didn't even see you coming in front of me." When she glanced up at his face she was even more embarrassed to find him staring at her very oddly. He was very good looking and evidently wealthy by cut of his suit, which made her feel like an awkward, gangly teenager all over again. Too humiliated to stand there any longer she made a second attempt for the lobby door faintly hearing the good looking fellow calling after her. There was no way she was going to turn around after that fiasco! She picked up her skirt a little higher and awkwardly rushed through the doors as much as her shoes would allow her. Christine let a breath of relief once the doors closed and she was in the deserted lobby area. However, her moment of reprieve was short lived when the doors burst back open to reveal the winded young man again.

"Wait, wait!" he shouted not realizing she didn't make it far from the doors and quickly reddened in the face slightly before he quieted his voice down. Needless to say, she was startled and shocked that the man would even bother to follow her, and he put his hands up in a casual gesture when he took notice of the alarm on her face.

"I'm not some crazed lunatic or anything!" He chuckled while clasping his hands behind his back in a boyish manner. "I'm really sorry to bother you, but you looked really familiar, and it took me a second to realize who you were." His blonde hair fell slightly over his blue eyes while a bright smile spread across his cheeks. Christine was trying to recall if he was, perhaps, in one of her classes, but she couldn't for the life of her remember who he was. The puzzled expression on her face made his grin spread even wider. "After all the trouble I went through to fetch your little red scarf, you can't remember me, Chrissy?"

Chrissy? She hadn't been called that since she was a child. Only her father and a little boy she knew long ago called her that. The boy lived near Christine and her father's old home by the sea, albeit, he lived in a wealthier neighborhood, but they became regular playmates all the same. It couldn't be..

"Raoul?" She inquired. "Are you really Raoul?"

"So you do remember!" He took a step toward her and gave her an affectionate hug and Christine awkwardly put her hands around his neck having not expected such a friendly gesture. She had thought he would have forgotten her long ago once she moved away. What's a working class girl like her worth anything to a wealthy well respected man like him?

"I can't believe you had forgotten about me! All those summers we had together weren't that memorable, huh? He asked her jokingly, lightening up the mood. Christine let her arms fall from her old friend's neck, but Raoul still held her in his arms as if he was afraid she would disappear again. Christine didn't mind too much. He had grown into a fine young man, but still held on to those boyish charms that could make anyone swoon.

"It's been over a decade since I last saw you!" She teased back. "The last time I saw you, you had dirt all over your face. You can't hold it against me just because I never knew what you looked like underneath the mud." Of course she was joking around, he wasn't that dirty of child especially with his hard-nosed nanny looming around. That woman had such an enmity towards dirt and germs to the point that Raoul would purposely play in mud puddles just to irritate her. She wasn't very fond of Christine either, and would constantly shoo her away anytime she came looking for Raoul. Eventually, Raoul would escape his nannies clutches and play in the woods by Christine's house knowing the old hag would never dare walk around in the mud to find him there. But, once summer ended, his family would leave their summer house and go back to their home in New York City. One winter, her father sold their old home by the sea, and Christine never spent another summer with Raoul again.

He finally released her from his arms only to grab her by the hand and lead her back to the lobby with such boyish elation.

"Come sit at my table, so we can catch up. Philip has been networking for the past hour and I would love it if we could talk." He stopped all the sudden sheepishly looking back at her realizing that he forgot his manners. They weren't children anymore, and he couldn't just run off with her as he pleased expecting her to willfully tag along.

"I'm sorry. I should've asked if you wanted to. You were rushing out of the banquet hall pretty quickly and…" His mood reached to a somber tone, and Christine couldn't help but slightly chuckle as he pouted a little. He was dangerously good looking, and Christine couldn't resist that sad face he was making.

"No, no I only wanted to get some air, and I would love to join you at your table." She replied with her hand covering the playful smile she wore. With that, he gently let go of her hand and courteously offered his arm instead. When she linked her arm into his he snootily put his nose up in the air playfully mocking those of his class. Christine let a slight snort escape at his little charade. He honestly had not changed one bit. Obviously, he grew up and lost those chubby cheeks, but he was still the same goofball whom never cared about his family's status. It made Christine feel at ease knowing he wouldn't judge her for being a poor college student with next to no family or assets.

He had everything while she had nothing.

When they walked back through the banquet doors, Christine saw Meg's face rise up from behind the large centerpieces with a worried expression, but melted when she saw the handsome man attached to Christine's arm. Christine made a gesture indicating that she was going to sit with her new companion and Meg replied with a thumbs up and a suggestive smile. Christine threw back an unamused look at the dancers need to embarrass and tease the living daylights out of her. Oh, she would never hear the end of it after tonight.

They reached a table littered with half empty and abandoned wine glasses, and Raoul politely pulled out a chair for her. After she sat down, he pulled his chair out and turned it towards her before casually leaning forward.

"So, how has your father been?" Christine took a sharp intake of breath before gluing her eyes to the floor. She should've expected him to ask, and it shouldn't be as painful of a question as it was but…

"He died a few years ago."

Raoul remembered Mr. Daae being as fit as fiddle, and was very surprised to learn that he had died not too long ago. His face bore the look of true empathy, and took Christine's hand in comfort obviously seeing the hurt in her eyes. "I'm so sorry, Christine I wish I would've known and attended the funeral. I admired your father very much." He admitted hoping it would bring her solace knowing that he genuinely cared. He could sympathize considering his parents died when he was young leaving his older brother the estate and ten year old kid to take care of.

At least he always had Philip. While his older brother was by no means ready for parenthood, he still managed to take care of Raoul without much help from nannies. He would have to thank his older brother for putting up with all his shit.

"It was a small funeral with only a few people. He died so suddenly, and I only knew the whereabouts of a small group of friends and family." She replied forcing her tone to be stronger hoping that it wouldn't crack and bring on the flood of hysterics. Not knowing what else to say he flagged down a waiter and ordered an entire bottle of champagne.

"We are here to celebrate a renewed friendship. Why not drink for the occasion?" He told Christine when she looked surprised.

"I wasn't aware you could order by the bottle. We must look like a bunch of alcoholics."

Raoul waved his hand in dismissal and told her not worry about. "They know me. Well, more like my family, but they won't mind." He gave her a genuine smile. "It'll be my treat." Christine was typically not comfortable with people lavishing her, but before she could argue, an ice bucket was brought over with two flukes. The waiter twisted off the cork with a pop and generously filled their two glasses with bubbling golden liquid. Christine thanked the waiter when he filled her glass and took in the aroma of spiced apples with a hint of fresh baked bread. When the waiter left, Raoul raised his glass and Christine mimicked his actions.

"A toast, to old friendships." He said, his voice was washing away her weariness and worries from the past weeks. God, he was charming.

"And, for crossing paths once again." She added, and they clinked their glasses together to mark the beginning of a rekindled friendship, unknowingly sealing their fate to great misfortune.

* * *

A/N: Remember when I said I wouldn't do these again? Well, I lied. But, this is the last one because anything pertaining to this story will be put on my profile. Just so you know.

I had been taking three summer classes while writing this story as a way to procrastinate; shame on me. However, those are all done with, and I can concentrate on more of the fun stuff. Next chapter is almost done, don't you fret. And, please, for the love of mozart if there is a beta out there in the deep, deep perils of the internet willing to proof this thing, I will be so happy. Nobody responds to my emails...


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